Nesta did not err in her divination of the good and the bad incarnate beside her, though both good and bad were behind a curtain; the latter sparing her delicate senses, appealing to chivalry, to the simply feminine claim on her.  Reason, acting in her heart as a tongue of the flames of the forge where we all are wrought, told her surely that the good predominated.  She had the heart which is at our primal fires when nature speaks.

She gave the promise to call on Mrs. Marsett and sing to her.

‘An afternoon?  Oh! what afternoon?’ she was asked, and she said:  ’This afternoon, if you like.’

So it was agreed:  Mrs. Marsett acted violently the thrill of delight she felt in the prospect.

The ladies Dorothea and Virginia, consulted, and pronounced the name of Marsett to be a reputable County name.  ’There was a Leicestershire baronet of the name of Marsett.’  They arranged to send their button-blazing boy at Nesta’s heels.  Mrs. Marsett resided in a side-street not very distant from the featureless but washed and orderly terrace of the glassy stare at sea.

CHAPTER XXIX

SHOWS ONE OF THE SHADOWS OF THE WORLD CROSSING A VIRGIN’S MIND

Nasta and her maid were brought back safely through the dusk by their constellation of a boy, to whom the provident ladies had entrusted her.  They could not but note how short her syllables were.  Her face was only partly seen.  They had returned refreshed from their drive on the populous and orderly parade—–­so fair a pattern of their England!—­after discoursing of ‘the dear child,’ approving her manners, instancing proofs of her intelligence, nay, her possession of ‘character.’  They did so, notwithstanding that these admissions were worse than their growing love for the girl, to confound established ideas.  And now, in thoughtfulness on her behalf, Dorothea said, ’We have considered, Nesta, that you may be lonely; and if it is your wish, we will leave our card on your new acquaintance.’  Nesta took her hand and kissed it; she declined, saying, ‘No,’ without voice.

They had two surprises at the dinner-hour.  One was the card of Dartrey Fenellan, naming an early time next day for his visit; and the other was the appearance of the Rev. Stuart Rem, a welcome guest.  He had come to meet his Bishop.

He had come also with serious information for the ladies, regarding the Rev. Abram Posterley.  No sooner was this out of his mouth than both ladies exclaimed: 

‘Again!’ So serious was it, that there had been a consultation at the Wells; Mr. Posterley’s friend, the Rev. Septimus Barmby, and his own friend, the Rev. Groseman Buttermore, had journeyed from London to sit upon the case:  and, ‘One hoped,’ Mr. Stuart Rem said, ’poor Posterley would be restored to the senses he periodically abandoned.’  He laid a hand on Tasso’s curls, and withdrew it at a menace of teeth.  Tasso would submit to rough caresses from Mr. Posterley; he would not allow Mr. Stuart Rem to touch him.  Why was that?  Perhaps for the reason of Mr. Posterley’s being so emotional as perpetually to fall a victim to some bright glance and require the rescue of his friends; the slave of woman had a magnet for animals!